One fundamental goal of any well-conceived
indoctrination program is to direct attention elsewhere, away from
effective power, its roots, and the disguises it assumes. Thus to
enter into debate over Vietnam, or the Middle East, or Central
America, one is required to gain special knowledge of these areas
while avoiding scrutiny of the United States. Rational standards are
permitted for the study of Soviet intervention, which focusses on
Moscow, not Kabul and Prague; for us, however, the problems lie
elsewhere, not here. Respectable commentators can even speak of "the
tragic self-destruction of Central America," with the two superpowers
playing a (symmetrical) background role (Theodore Sorenson). A similar
comment about Eastern Europe would merely arouse ridicule.1

The serviceability of the doctrine is apparent. Those who hope to
understand world affairs will naturally resist it. The February
elections in Nicaragua are a case in point. The forces at work within
Nicaragua are surely worth understanding, the reactions to the
elections here no less so -- far more so, in fact, in terms of global
import and long-term significance, given the scale and character of
U.S. power. These reactions provide quite illuminating insight into
the dominant political culture. They provide further and quite
dramatic evidence that the concept of democracy is disappearing even
as an abstract ideal.

The Winner: George Bush

As a point of departure, consider a few reactions beyond the
borders. In Mexico City, the liberal La Jornada wrote:
"After 10 years, Washington examines with satisfaction the balance of
an investment made with fire and blood..., an undeclared war of
aggression... The elections were certainly cleanly prepared and
conducted, but a decade of horror was behind them."

While welcoming the electoral outcome, the right-wing daily
El Universal acknowledged that "The defeated Sandinista Front
does not have all of the responsibility for the disasters that have
fallen upon Nicaraguans. Its lead role in the construction of
Nicaragua in recent years cannot be denied, either. But the voters
have made an objective use of the essential prerogative of democracy:
to vote for who they believe can better their situation," surely
George Bush's candidate, in the light of invariant U.S. policies that
are as familiar to Latin Americans as the rising of the sun. For the
independent El Tiempo in Colombia, passionately opposed
to "frightening communism" and the Sandinistas who represent it on the
continent, "The U.S. and President Bush scored a clear victory."2

In Guatemala, the independent Central America Report
(Inforpress Centroamericana) concluded that "Most analysts agree that
the UNO victory marks the consummation of the US government's
military, economic and political efforts to overthrow the
Sandinistas." Under the heading The Winners, the journal
added:

US President George Bush emerged as a clear victor in the
Nicaraguan elections. The decade-long Reagan/Bush war against
Nicaragua employed a myriad of methods -- both covert and open --
aimed at overthrowing the Sandinistas. Bush's continuation of the
two-pronged Reagan policy of economic strangulation and military
aggression finally reaped tangible results. Following the elections,
Ortega said that the outcome was not in retrospect surprising since
the voters went to the polls "with a pistol pointed at their heads"

-- a conclusion that the journal accepts without comment. "The
consensus attributes the population's defection...to the critical
economic crisis in Nicaragua," the report continues, citing an
editorial in the Guatemala City press that "pointed out that more than
ten years of economic and military aggressions waged by a government
with unlimited resources created the setting for an election
determined by economic exhaustion." "It was a vote in search of peace
by a people that, inevitably, were fed up with violence," the
Guatemala City editorial concluded: "It is a vote from a hungry people
that, more than any idea, need to eat."3

The analysis ends with this comment:

"While many observers today are remarking that never before has a
leftist revolutionary regime handed over power in elections, the
opposite is also true. Never has a popular elected leftist
government in Latin America been allowed to undertake its reforms
without being cut short by a coup, an invasion or an assassination"

-- or, we may add, subversion, terror, or economic strangulation.

Readers in Guatemala, or elsewhere in Latin America, need no
further reminders of this truism. One will search far for any hint of
such a thought, let alone a discussion of what it implies, in U.S.
commentary. Even the fact that Nicaragua had a popular elected
government is inexpressible in the U.S. propaganda system, with its
standards of discipline that no respectable intellectual would dare to
flout.

Much of the press abroad saw the events in a similar light. The
editors of the London Financial Times observe that "The
war against the Contras has eroded the early achievements in health
and education of the Sandinista revolution and brought the country
close to bankruptcy." The victors, they add, are the contras -- which
is to say, the White House, Congress, and the support team who set up,
maintained, and justified what was conceded to be a "proxy army" by
contra lobbyists, who hoped that Washington might somehow convert its
proxies into a political force (Bruce Cameron and Penn Kemble of
Freedom House); in vain, despite resources and advantages undreamt of
by authentic popular and guerrilla movements. Their Managua
correspondent Tim Coone concludes that "Nicaraguans appeared to
believe that a UNO victory offered the best prospect of securing US
funds to end the country's economic misery" -- correctly, of course.4

The left-wing Costa Rican journal Mesoamerica added
that "the Sandinistas fell for a scam perpetrated by Costa Rican
President Oscar Arias and the other Central American Presidents,"
which "cost them the 25 Feb. elections." Nicaragua had agreed to
loosen wartime constraints and advance the scheduled elections by a
few months "in exchange for having the contras demobilized and
the war brought to an end." The White House and Congress broke the
deal at once, maintaining the contras as a military force in violation
of the agreements and compelling them to be modified to focus on
Nicaragua alone. With the deal effectively broken, the U.S. candidate
could promise to end the war, while Ortega could not. "War weary
Nicaraguans voted for peace." The operation was a stunning success for
White House-Congress duplicity, which succeeded brilliantly in
undermining the diplomatic settlement while the media provided their
crucial assistance by concealing the operation, a regular pattern in
Vietnam and the Middle East as well, as documented elsewhere.5

In short, the winner of the elections was George Bush and the
Democrat-Republican coalition that waged ten years of economic and
military aggression, leaving a hungry and distraught people who voted
for relief from terror and misery. Democracy has been dealt a serious
blow, with a "popular elected leftist government" replaced by one
elected under duress, by violent foreign intervention that proved
decisive.

United in Joy

Returning home, we find a different picture. The New Republic
editorial on the elections is entitled "Who Won Nicaragua?" The answer
is: "Why, the Nicaraguans, of course" -- not George Bush and U.S.
aggression. "Those who supported aid to the contras..., as did this
magazine, can find considerable vindication in the outcome," which
"made nonsense of both the left-wing myth that anti-Yankeeism is the
centerpiece of all Latin America's political identity and the
right-wing myth that Leninists can never be induced to change." Adding
what remains unsaid, the former "myth" succumbed to the successful use
of terror and economic strangulation, and the latter is based on the
loyal denial of familiar and well-attested facts about "the
Sandinistas, who had won free and fair elections in 1984" (London
Observer). "Gratifying as the election results are," the
editorial continues, "democracy is not yet quite safe in Nicaragua,"
and "having served as an inspiration for the triumph of democracy in
our time, the United States now has an opportunity to see to it that
democracy prevails" -- "democracy," New Republic-style:
the kind that "prevails" in the Central American domains where the
U.S. has had ample opportunity to entrench it, to take the obvious
example.6

Perhaps it is unfair to illustrate U.S. reaction by a journal that
gave "Reagan & Co. good marks" for their support of state terror in El
Salvador as it reached Pol Pot levels in 1981, and then, surveying the
carnage three years later, advised Reagan & Co. to explain to the
American people that we must support "Latin-style fascists," sending
military aid "regardless of how many are murdered," because "there are
higher American priorities than Salvadoran human rights." In assessing
U.S. political culture let us, then, put aside the more passionate
advocates of state terror -- though not without noting that these
values, familiar from the Nazi era, in no way diminish the reputation
of the journal, or even merit a word of comment in left-liberal
circles. Let us concentrate attention, rather, on what is called the
"establishment left" by editor Charles William Maynes of Foreign
Policy. He is referring specifically to the New York
Times, but doubtless would include also the Washington
Post, the major TV news bureaus, the Boston Globe
(which perhaps qualifies as "ultra-left"), and his own journal, the
more liberal of the two major foreign affairs quarterlies.7

Turning to the left, then, we begin with the New York Times,
where Elaine Sciolino reviewed the U.S. reaction to the elections. The
headline reads: "Americans United in Joy, But Divided Over Policy."
The policy division turns out to be over who deserves credit for the
joyous outcome, so we are left with "Americans United in Joy."8

Such phrases as "United in Joy" are not entirely unknown. One might
find them, perhaps, in the North Korean or Albanian press. Obviously
the issue was contentious, certainly to Nicaraguans, to others in
Latin America as well. But not to educated U.S. elites, who are quite
eager to depict themselves as dedicated totalitarians.

The review of opinion opens by noting that "the left and the right
and those in between [have] a fresh opportunity to debate one of the
United States's most divisive foreign policy issues of the last
decade." The left-right debate now reduces to who can justly claim
credit. Sciolino begins with eleven paragraphs reviewing the position
of the right, followed by five devoted to the left. In the former
category, she cites Elliott Abrams, Jeane Kirkpatrick, Fred Ikle of
the Pentagon, Oliver North, Robert Leiken of the Harvard University
Center for International Affairs, and Ronald Reagan. They portray the
outcome as "spectacular," "great, wonderful, stunning," a tribute to
the contras who, "when history is written, ...will be the folk
heroes," a victory "for the cause of democracy" in a "free and fair
election."

Sciolino then turns to the left: "On the other side, Lawrence A.
Pezzullo, who was appointed Ambassador to Nicaragua by President
fantastic'." We return to Pezzullo's left-wing credentials directly. The second
representative of "the other side" is Sol Linowitz, who, as Carter
Administration Ambassador to the Organization of American States
(OAS), sought in vain to mobilize Latin America in support of Carter's
program of "Somocismo sin Somoza" ("Somozism without Somoza") after
the murderous tyrant could no longer be maintained in power, and later
urged pressures to make Nicaragua more democratic -- like El Salvador
and Guatemala, both just fine and hence needing no such pressures. The
final representative of the left is Francis McNeil, who quit the State
Department in 1987 when his pessimism about contra military prospects
aroused the ire of Elliott Abrams.9

The last paragraph observes that some "were not entirely
comfortable with the results" of the election, citing Lawrence Birns
of the Council on Hemispheric Affairs, who "seemed to side with the
Sandinistas," expressing his "inner rage that the corner bully won
over the little guy."

Sciolino remarks incidentally that "Sandinista supporters expressed
sadness, and said that the defeat was a product of Nicaragua's
economic troubles -- a result of the American trade embargo and other
outside pressures" -- thus lining up with much of Latin America. But
recall that Americans were United in Joy. By simple logic, it follows
that these miscreants are not Americans, or perhaps not people.
Earlier Times reporting suggests the latter
interpretation. Thus, when the Times reported in 1985
that "no one is arguing strenuously that [the embargo] be amended,"
many featherless bipeds were arguing strenuously that these murderous
and illegal measures be not merely amended but terminated. Evidently,
then, they bore only a superficial resemblance to the human race.10

Summarizing, there are "two sides," the right and the left, which
differed on the tactical question of how to eliminate the Sandinistas
in favor of U.S. clients and are now "United in Joy."

There is one person who seems to side with the Sandinistas,
but couldn't really be that far out of step, we are to
understand. And there are some non-Americans, or perhaps non-humans,
who share the exotic opinions of Latin Americans as to what happened
and why. Having failed to obey state orders, these strange creatures
are off the left-right spectrum entirely, and do not participate in
the great debate over the sole issue still unresolved: Who deserves
the credit for the happy outcome?

The Times conception of the spectrum of opinion is,
then, very much like that of the editor of Foreign Policy.
Or former Undersecretary of State David Newsom, now director of the
Institute for the Study of Diplomacy at Georgetown University, who
urges "the ideological extremes of the nation's political spectrum" to
abandon the fruitless debate over the credits for our victories. Or
Jimmy Carter, who explained to the press that his observer commission
was "carefully balanced -- half Democrat and half Republican," thus
carefully balanced between two groups that satisfy the prior condition
of objectivity: passionate opposition to the Sandinistas and support
for Washington's candidates.11

Throughout, we see with great clarity the image of a highly
disciplined political culture, deeply imbued with totalitarian values.

The Case for the Doves

In the new phase of the debate, the right attributes the defeat of
the Sandinistas to the contras, while the left claims that the contras
impeded their effort to overthrow the Sandinistas by other means. But
the doves have failed to present their case as strongly as they might.
Let us therefore give them a little assistance, meanwhile recalling
some crucial facts that are destined for oblivion because they are far
too inconvenient to preserve.

We begin with Lawrence Pezzullo, the leading representative of the
left in the Times survey of opinion. Pezzullo was
appointed Ambassador in early 1979, at a time when Carter's support
for the Somoza tyranny was becoming problematic. Of course no one
contemplated any modification in the basic system of power, surely no
significant role for the Sandinistas (FSLN). As explained by Carter
dove Robert Pastor, Director of Latin American and Caribbean Affairs
on the National Security Council, there was complete agreement that
Somoza's National Guard must be kept intact, and it was not until June
29, shortly before the end, that any participant in an NSC meeting
"suggested the central U.S. objective was something other than
preventing a Sandinista victory." By then it was finally realized that
means must be sought "to moderate the FSLN," who could not be
marginalized or excluded, as hoped.12

As in U.S. political democracy generally, the Carter Administration
had its left-right spectrum. On the right, National Security Adviser
Zbigniew Brzezinski proclaimed that "we have to demonstrate that we
are still the decisive force in determining the political outcomes in
Central America," warning of apocalyptic outcomes if the U.S. did not
intervene. On the left, Secretary of State Cyrus Vance and Assistant
Secretary of State for Inter-American Affairs Viron Vaky pursued a
more nuanced approach. Pezzullo's task was to implement the policy of
the left, that is, to bar the FSLN from power through the
"preservation of existing instititutions, especially the National
Guard" (Vaky, June 15, 1979). This plan was proposed to the OAS, but
rejected by the Latin American governments, all ultra-left extremists,
by U.S. standards. Pezzullo was then compelled to inform Somoza that
his usefulness was at an end. On June 30, he noted in a cable to
Washington that "with careful orchestration we have a better than even
chance of preserving enough of the [National Guard] to maintain order
and hold the FSLN in check after Somoza resigns," even though this
plan would "smack somewhat of Somocismo sin Somoza," he added a few
days later. For the "successor government," the Carter Administration
approached Archbishop Obando y Bravo (in contrast, our religious
sensibilities are deeply offended by political engagement of priests
who envision a church that serves the poor) and the right-wing
businessman Adolfo Calero (later civilian director of the main contra
force); and for head of the National Guard, it considered Colonel
Enrique Bermudez, later contra commander.13

At the time, the National Guard was carrying out murderous attacks
against civilians, leaving tens of thousands killed. Pezzullo
recommended that the bloodbath be continued: "I believe it
ill-advised," he cabled Washington on July 6, "to go to Somoza and ask
for a bombing halt." On July 13, Pezzullo informed Washington that the
"survivability" of the Guard was doubtful unless Somoza left, as he
did, four days later, fleeing to Miami with what remained of the
national treasury. On July 19, the game was over -- that phase, at
least.14

As the FSLN entered Managua on July 19, the Carter Administration
"began setting the stage for a counterrevolution," Peter Kornbluh
observes, mounting a clandestine operation to evacuate Guard
commanders on U.S. planes disguised with Red Cross markings. This is a
war crime punishable under the Geneva conventions, the London
Economist observed years later, when the same device was used
to supply contras within Nicaragua (pictures of CIA supply planes
disguised with Red Cross markings appeared without comment in
Newsweek, while the vigorous denunciation of this violation of
international law by the Red Cross passed without notice in the
newspaper of record). Within six months after the overthrow of Somoza,
the Carter Administration had initiated the CIA destabilization
campaign, inherited and expanded by the Reaganites. The Carter doves
did not give direct support to the National Guard forces that they
helped reconstitute, preferring to use the neo-Nazi Argentine generals
"as a proxy for the United States" (Rand Corporation terrorism expert
Brian Jenkins). The U.S. took over directly with the Reagan
presidency.15

Pezzullo's next task was to "moderate the FSLN." The Carter doves
proposed economic aid as "the main source of U.S. influence" (Pastor).
The U.S. business community supported this plan, particularly U.S.
banks, which, as noted in the London Financial Times,
were pressuring Carter to provide funds to Nicaragua so that their
loans to Somoza would be repaid (courtesy of the U.S. taxpayer, as in
the Savings & Loan scam of the Reagan years). The banks were
particularly concerned that if Nicaragua, reduced to utter ruin and
bankruptcy by the U.S.-backed Somoza regime, were to default on the
Somoza debt, it would serve as a "bad example" for other U.S. clients.
It was also recognized that aid directed to anti-Sandinista elements
in the ruling coalition was the last remaining device to block the
FSLN and its programs.16
After Nicaragua reached a settlement with the banks, $75 million in
aid was offered, about 60% for the private business sector, with $5
million a grant for private organizations and $70 million a loan
(partly credits to buy U.S. goods, another taxpayer subsidy to
corporations). One of the conditions was that no funds be used for
projects with Cuban personnel, a way of ensuring that nothing would go
to schools, the literacy campaign, health programs, or other reform
measures for which Nicaragua was likely to turn to those with
experience in such projects and willingness to serve. Nicaragua had no
choice but to agree, since, as the Wall Street Journal
noted, without this "signal of U.S. confidence in the stability of the
country" there would be no bank loans, which were desperately needed.
Nicaragua's request for U.S. military aid and training was rejected,
and efforts to obtain such aid from the West were blocked by U.S.
pressure, compelling reliance on East bloc aid as the external threat
mounted.17

As these events pass through the U.S. doctrinal system, they
undergo a subtle alchemy and emerge in a different form: The
Sandinistas "enjoyed American encouragement at first; having helped
get rid of Somoza, the Carter administration also gave them $75
million in aid. But when the Sandinistas brought in Cuban and East
German military advisers to help build their Army into the region's
largest fighting force, conflict with Washington was sure to
follow..." (Newsweek).18

Nicaragua also attempted to maintain its trade links with the U.S.
and the West, and succeeded in doing so through the mid-1980s despite
U.S. efforts. But Washington naturally preferred that they rely on the
East bloc, to ensure maximal inefficiency and to justify the attack on
these "Soviet clients." The U.S. also blocked aid from international
development organizations, and, after failing to displace the FSLN,
sought to destroy private business in Nicaragua to increase domestic
discontent and undermine the mixed economy (a major and predicted
effect of the Reagan embargo, and the reason why it was bitterly
opposed by the Nicaraguan opposition that the U.S. claimed to
support).19

So enormous was the devastation left as Somoza's final legacy that
a World Bank Mission concluded in October 1981 that "per capita income
levels of 1977 will not be attained, in the best of circumstances,
until the late 1980s" and that "any untoward event could lead to a
financial trauma." There were, of course, "untoward events," but such
facts do not trouble the ideologues who deduce Sandinista
responsibility for the subsequent economic debacle from the doctrinal
necessity of this conclusion. A standard rhetorical trick, pioneered
by the Kissinger Commission, is to "demonstrate" Sandinista economic
mismanagement by comparing living standards of 1977 to those of the
eighties, thus attributing the effects of the U.S.-backed Somoza
terror to the Marxist-Leninist totalitarians.20

Despite the horrendous circumstances, Nicaragua's economic progress
through the early 1980s was surprisingly good, with the highest growth
rate in Central America by a large margin, an improvement in standard
of living in contrast to a substantial fall for the rest of Central
America and a somewhat lesser fall for Latin America as a whole, and
significant redistribution of income and expansion of social services.
In 1983, the Inter-American Development Bank reported that Nicaragua's
"noteworthy progress in the social sector" was "laying a solid
foundation for long-term socio-economic development." The World Bank
and other international development organizations lauded the
"remarkable" Nicaraguan record and outstanding success, in some
respects "better than anywhere in the world" (World Bank). But U.S.
pressures succeeded in terminating these dangerous developments. By
early 1987, business leader Enrique Bolanos, well to the right of the
UNO directorate, attributed the economic crisis in Nicaragua to the
war (60%, presumably including the economic war), the international
economic crisis (10%), the contraction of the Central American Common
Market (10%), and decapitalization by the business sector and
government errors (20%). The London Financial Times
estimates the costs of the contra war at $12 billion; UNO economist
Francisco Mayorga adds $3 billion as the costs of the embargo. Actual
totals are unknown, but plainly fall within the range of the "untoward
events" which, the World Bank predicted, would lead to catastrophe.21

Naturally, the idea that the U.S. might pay reparations for what it
has done can be relegated to the same category as the notion that it
might observe international law generally: Too ludicrous to merit a
word of comment.

Underlying their various tactical moves, the Carter doves had a
strategic conception. Robert Pastor comments that "The United States
did not want to control Nicaragua or the other nations in the region,
but it also did not want to allow developments to get out of control.
It wanted Nicaraguans to act independently, except when doing
so would affect U.S. interests adversely." Nicaraguans, in short,
should have complete freedom to do what we want them to do, and need
not be controlled unless they are out of control.22

Applying these principles to Nicaragua, Viron Vaky outlined "the
principal arguments" for supporting the contras: "a longer war of
attrition will so weaken the regime, provoke such a radical hardening
of repression, and win sufficient support from Nicaragua's
discontented population that sooner or later the regime will be
overthrown by popular revolt, self-destruct by means of internal coups
or leadership splits, or simply capitulate to salvage what it can";
another one of those cases of "the tragic self-destruction of Central
America" lamented by Theodore Sorenson. The sole aim of Reagan policy,
Vaky continues, was "a negotiation on the terms and schedule under
which the Sandinistas would turn over power," a goal that he sees as
"reasonable" and "idealistic," while acknowledging that the U.S. proxy
forces to which power is to be turned over "have been unable to elicit
significant political support."23

As a dove, Vaky saw these goals as unattainable, and preferred
other measures (not excluding force) to "contain" the Sandinista
threat and promote "the evolution of Nicaragua's internal system into
a more open, less virulent one," perhaps even one as benign as in the
U.S. terror states. In this way, he concludes, we might be able to
reach our "objective of promoting Nicaraguan self-determination," now
happily achieved, at last. The concept of democracy shines through
bright and clear.

With a sufficiently powerful microscope one can distinguish this
left-wing perspective from that of the right, for example, the DoD
official who informed the press a few months later that a small number
of "hard-core guys could keep some pressure on the Nicaraguan
government, force them to use their economic resources for the
military, and prevent them from solving their economic problems -- and
that's a plus," because "Anything that puts pressure on the Sandinista
regime, calls attention to the lack of democracy, and prevents the
Sandinistas from solving their economic problems is a plus."24

Nicaragua must be reduced to "the Albania of Central America," a
State Department insider is reported to have observed in 1981. In a
"Latin American Albania...the Sandinista dream of creating a new, more
exemplary political model for Latin America would be in ruins," John
Carlin comments in the London Independent. There would be
no "revolution without borders" of the sort anticipated by Tomas
Borge, with Nicaragua serving as a model for its neighbors, the source
of a well-known fraud perpetrated by the government, the media, and
segments of scholarship.25

Other government officials explained that they did not expect a
contra victory, but were "content to see the contras debilitate the
Sandinistas by forcing them to divert scarce resources toward the war
and away from social programs"; the consequences could then be adduced
as proof of "Sandinista mismanagement". Since this understanding is
common to hawks and doves, it is not surprising that no reaction was
evoked when it was reported in the Boston Globe, just as
no reaction was to be expected when ex-CIA analyst David MacMichael
testified at the World Court that the goals of the contra program were
to "provoke cross-border attacks by Nicaraguan forces and thus
demonstrate Nicaragua's aggressive nature" and to pressure Nicaragua
to "clamp down on civil liberties" so as to demonstrate "its allegedly
inherent totalitarian nature and thus increase domestic dissent within
the country." It is superfluous to document the enthusiasm with which
the educated classes undertook the task assigned to them in these
programs.26

It thus made perfect sense for the U.S. command to direct its proxy
forces to attack "soft targets" -- that is, undefended civilian
targets -- as SOUTHCOM commander General John Galvin explained; to
train the contra forces to "attack a lot of schools, health centers,
and those sort of things" so that "the Nicaraguan government cannot
provide social services for the peasants, cannot develop its project."
"That's the idea," contra Intelligence Chief Horacio Arce (El
Mercenario) informed the press in Mexico after defecting in
November 1988 (but not the U.S. press, which succeeded in evading such
unpleasant testimony).27

The Maynes-Sciolino left did not object to these policies in
principle. They had no fundamental disagremeent with the conclusion of
George Shultz's State Department that "Nicaragua is the cancer and
[is] metastasizing" and that "the Sandinista cancer" must be removed,
"by radical surgery if necessary."28
Furthermore, the Carter doves effectively set these policies in
motion. They can therefore claim to have succeeded in their aims, as
the election showed. Their only fault was excessive pessimism over the
prospects of success of terror and economic warfare; in this respect,
the judgment of the right was correct, and it is unreasonable for the
left to deny that their right-wing opponents had a sounder
appreciation of the efficacy of state violence. Thus left and right
have every reason to be United in Joy at the triumph of democracy, as
they jointly conceive it: Free choice, with a pistol to your head.

"Rallying to Chamorro"

The Kim Il Sung-style unanimity considered so natural and
appropriate by the Times has, in fact, been
characteristic of the "divisive foreign policy issue" that is said to
have rent the United States in the past decade. As has been
extensively documented, both reporting and permissible opinion in the
media were virtually restricted to the question of the choice of means
for returning Nicaragua to "the Central American mode." There was
indeed a "division": Should this result be achieved by terror, or, if
violence proved ineffective, by arrangements enforced by the death
squad democracies that already observe the approved "regional
standards," as advocated by Tom Wicker and other doves? This spectrum
of thought was safeguarded at a level approaching 100% in the national
press, a most impressive achievement.29

Pre-election coverage maintained the same high standards of
conformism. It was uniformly anti-Sandinista. The UNO coalition were
the democrats, on the sole grounds that the coalition had been forged
in Washington and included the major business interests, sufficient
proof of democratic credentials by the conventions of U.S. political
discourse. On similar assumptions, Bob Woodward describes the CIA
operations launched by Carter as a "program to boost the democratic
alternative to the Sandinistas"; no evidence as to the concern for
democracy is provided, or needed, on the conventional understanding of
the concept of democracy.

Commentary and reporting on the Sandinistas was harsh and derisive.
Some did break ranks. The Boston Globe ran an op-ed by
Daniel Ortega a few days before the election, but the editors were
careful to add an accompanying caricature of an ominous thug in a
Soviet Field Marshal's uniform wearing designer glasses, just to
ensure that readers would not be misled.30
Media monitors have yet to come up with a single phrase suggesting
that an FSLN victory might be the best thing for Nicaragua. Even
journalists who privately felt that way did not say it; not out of
fear, I suppose, but because they took for granted that such an idea
would be unintelligible, on a par with "the U.S. is a leading
terrorist state," or "Washington is blocking the peace process," or
"maybe we should tell the truth about Cambodia and Timor," or other
departures from dogma. Such statements lack cognitive meaning. They
are imprecations, like shouting "Fuck You" in public; they can only
elicit a stream of abuse, not a rational response. This is the
ultimate achievement of thought control, beyond what Orwell imagined.
Large parts of the language are simply ruled unthinkable. It all makes
good sense: In a Free Society, all must march on command, or
keep silent. Anything else is just too dangerous.

There must have been departures somewhere, but the performance in
the mainstream would have impressed any dictator.

On TV, Peter Jennings opened the international news by announcing
that Nicaragua is going to have its "first free election in a decade."31
Three crucial doctrines are presupposed: (1) the elections under
Somoza were free; (2) there was no free election in 1984; (3) the 1990
election was free and uncoerced. A standard footnote is that Ortega
was driven to accept the 1990 elections by U.S. pressure; here opinion
divides, with the right and the left differing on who deserves the
credit for the achievement. Recall that truly sophisticated
propagandists understand that it is a mistake to articulate basic
doctrines, thus opening them to critical reflection. Rather, they are
to be presupposed, setting the bounds of thinkable thought.

We may disregard point (1), though not without noting that it has
been a staple of the "establishment left," with its frequent reference
to "restoring democracy" in Nicaragua. The second point expresses a
fundamental dogma, which brooks no deviation and is immune to fact; I
need not review this matter, familiar outside of the reigning
doctrinal system. The footnote ignores the unacceptable (hence
unreportable) fact that the next election had always been scheduled
for 1990, and that the total effect of U.S. machinations was to
advance it by a few months.

The most interesting point, however, is the third. Suppose that the
USSR were to follow the U.S. model as the Baltic states declare
independence, organizing a proxy army to attack them from foreign
bases, training its terrorist forces to hit "soft targets" (health
centers, schools, etc.) so that the governments cannot provide social
services, reducing the economies to ruin through embargo and other
sanctions, and so on, in the familiar routine. Suppose further that
when elections come, the Kremlin informs the population, loud and
clear, that they can vote for the CP or starve. Perhaps some
unreconstructed Stalinist might call this a "free and fair election."
Surely no one else would.

Or suppose that the Arab states were to reduce Israel to the level
of Ethiopia, then issuing a credible threat that they would drive it
the rest of the way unless it "cried uncle" and voted for their
candidate. Someone who called this a "democratic election," "free and
fair," would be condemned as an outright Nazi.

The pertinence of the analogies is obvious. Simple logic suffices
to show that anyone who called the 1990 Nicaraguan elections "free and
fair," a welcome step towards democracy, was not merely a
totalitarian, but of a rather special variety. Fact: That practice was
virtually exceptionless. I have found exactly one mainstream
journalist who was able to make the obvious points.32
Surely other examples must exist, but the conclusion, which we need
not spell out, tells us a great deal about the dominant intellectual
culture.

It was apparent from the outset that the U.S. would never tolerate
free and fair elections, as I have been emphasizing in these columns
since the campaign opened in October. The point was underscored by
repeated White House statements that the terror and economic war would
continue unless a "free choice" met the conditions of the Enforcer. It
was made official in early November when the White House announced
that the embargo would continue unless the population followed U.S.
orders. In a political culture that is more free and independent than
ours -- the military-run terror state of Guatemala, for example -- the
media had no difficulty perceiving these trivialities, as we have
already seen.

To be sure, the kinds of "divisions" that the Times
perceives were to be found here as well. There were a few who simply
denied that the military and economic wars had any notable impact;
what could a mere $15 billion and 30,000 dead mean to a society as
rich and flourishing as Nicaragua after Somoza?33
Turning to those who tried to be serious, we find the usual two
categories. The right didn't mention these crucial factors, and hailed
the stunning triumph of democracy. The establishment left did mention
them, and then hailed the stunning triumph of democracy. Still
keeping to that sector of opinion, let us consider a few examples to
illustrate the pattern.

Michael Kinsley, who represents the left on the New Republic
editorial staff and in CNN television debate, presented his analysis
of the election in the journal he edits (reprinted in the
Washington Post).34
He recalled an earlier article of his, omitting its crucial content:
that terrorist attacks against civilian targets are legitimate if a
"cost-benefit analysis" shows that the "blood and misery that will be
poured in" yields consequences that he takes to be favorable. This
doctrine, which could readily be accepted by Abu Nidal, helps us
situate the establishment left in the general spectrum.35
Kinsley then observes that "impoverishing the people of Nicaragua was
precisely the point of the contra war and the parallel policy of
economic embargo and veto of international development loans," and it
is "Orwellian" to blame the Sandinistas "for wrecking the economy
while devoting our best efforts to doing precisely that." "The
economic disaster was probably the victorious opposition's best
election issue," he continues, and "it was also Orwellian for the
United States, having created the disaster, to be posturing as the
exhorter and arbiter of free elections."

Kinsley then proceeds to posture, Orwellian-style, as the arbiter
of free elections, hailing the "free election" and "triumph of
democracy," which "turned out to be pleasanter than anyone would have
dared to predict."

At the extreme of the establishment left, Anthony Lewis of the
New York Times writes that "the Reagan policy did not
work. It produced only misery, death and shame." Why it did not work,
he does not explain; it appears to have worked very well, including
those parts that were supported throughout by the doves. Lewis then
proceeds to hail "the experiment in peace and democracy," which "did
work." This triumph of democracy, he writes, gives "fresh testimony to
the power of Jefferson's idea: government with the consent of the
governed, as Vaclav Havel reminded us the other day. To say so seems
romantic, but then we live in a romantic age." We are "dizzy with
success," as Stalin used to say, observing the triumph of our ideals
in Central America and the Caribbean, the Philippines, the
Israeli-occupied territories, and other regions where our influence
reaches so that we can take credit for the conditions of life and the
state of freedom.36

The reference to Havel merits some reflection. Havel's address to
Congress had a remarkable impact on the political and intellectual
communities. "Consciousness precedes Being, and not the other way
around, as the Marxists claim," Havel informed Congress to thunderous
applause; in a Woody Allen rendition, he would have said "Being
precedes Consciousness," eliciting exactly the same reaction. But what
really enthralled elite opinion was his statement that the United
States has "understood the responsibility that flowed" from its great
power, that there have been "two enormous forces -- one, a defender of
freedom, the other, a source of nightmares." We must put "morality
ahead of politics," he went on. The backbone of our actions must be
"responsibility -- responsibility to something higher than my family,
my country, my company, my success." To be moral, then, we must not
shirk our responsibility to suffering people in the Dominican
Republic, Timor, Vietnam, Guatemala, El Salvador, Mozambique, and
others like them throughout the world who can offer direct testimony
to the great works of the "defender of freedom."37

These thoughts evoked an overwhelming reaction. Lewis was not alone
in being entranced. The Washington Post described them as
"stunning evidence" that Havel's country is "a prime source" of "the
European intellectual tradition," a "voice of conscience" that speaks
"compellingly of the responsibilities that large and small powers owe
each other." The Boston Globe hailed Havel for having "no
use for cliches" as he gave us his "wise counsel" in a manner so
"lucid and logical." Mary McGrory reveled in "his idealism, his irony,
his humanity," as he "preached a difficult doctrine of individual
responsibility" while Congress "obviously ached with respect" for his
genius and integrity. Columnists Jack Germond and Jules Witcover asked
why America lacks intellectuals so profound, who "elevate morality
over self-interest" in this way. A front-page story in the Globe
described how "American politicans and pundits are gushing over"
Havel, and interviewed locals on why American intellectuals do not
approach these lofty heights.38

This reaction too provides a useful mirror for the elite culture.

Putting aside the relation of Being to Consciousness, the thoughts
that so entranced the intellectual community are, after all, not
entirely unfamiliar. One finds them regularly in the pontifications of
fundamentalist preachers, Fourth of July speeches, American Legion
publications, the journals and scholarly literature generally, indeed,
everywhere. Who can have been so remote from American life as not to
have heard that we are "the defender of freedom" and that we
magnificently satisfy the moral imperative to be responsible not just
to ourselves, but to the Welfare of Mankind? There is only one
rational interpretation. Liberal intellectuals secretly cherish the
pronouncements of Pat Robertson and the John Birch society, but are
embarrassed to say so; they can therefore gush in awe when these very
same words are produced by Vaclav Havel.

Havel's "voice of conscience" has another familiar counterpart. In
the Third World, one sometimes hears people say that the Soviet Union
defends our freedom while the U.S. government is a nightmare. I have
heard such sentiments in remote villages in Vietnam in areas destroyed
by U.S. bombardment, in the Israeli-occupied territories, and other
places, as have many others. Journalist T.D. Allman, who wrote one of
the few serious articles on El Salvador in the early eighties,
described a visit to a Christian base community, subjected to the
standard practice of the U.S.-backed security forces, where an old man
told him that he had heard of a country called Cuba across the seas
that might have concern for their plight, and asked Allman to "tell
us, please, sir, how we might contact these Cubans, to inform them of
our need, so that they might help us."39

Let us now try another thought experiment. Suppose a villager in
Vietnam, or Allman's Salvadoran peasant, had reached the Supreme
Soviet to orate about moral responsibility and the confrontation
between two powers, one a nightmare and the other a defender of
freedom. There would doubtless have been a rousing ovation, while
every party hack in Pravda would have gushed with
enthusiasm. I do not, incidentally, mean to draw a comparison to
Havel. It is easy to understand that the world might look this way to
someone whose experience is limited to U.S. bombs and U.S.-trained
death squads on the one hand, and, on the other, Soviet tractors and
anti-aircraft guns, and dreams of rescue by Cubans from unbearable
torment. For victims of the West, the circumstances of existence --
incomparably worse than those of Eastern Europe -- make the conclusion
plausible while barring knowledge of a broader reality. Havel and
those who gush over his familiar pieties can claim no such excuse.

We once again learn something about ourselves, if we choose. The
other Times spokesman for the left, Tom Wicker, followed
the same script. He concludes that the Sandinistas lost "because the
Nicaraguan people were tired of war and sick of economic deprivation."
But the elections were "free and fair," untainted by coercion.40

At the dissident extreme, William LeoGrande also hailed the promise
of the "democratic elections in Nicaragua," while noting that "In the
name of democracy, Washington put excruciating military and economic
pressure on Nicaragua in order to force the Sandinistas out of power."
Now, he continues, "the United States must show that its commitment to
democracy in Central America extends to pressuring friendly
conservative governments as well." Thus, having demonstrated its
"commitment to democracy" by terror and economic warfare, the U.S.
should "extend" this libertarian fervor to pressure on its friends.41

Turning to the shining light of American liberalism, the lead
editorial in the Boston Globe was headlined "Rallying to
Chamorro." All those who truly "love Nicaraguans," editorial page
editor Martin Nolan declared, "must now rally to Chamorro." Suppose
that in 1964 someone had said that all Goldwater supporters "must now
rally to Johnson." Such a person would have been regarded as a
throwback to the days when the Gauleiters and Commissars recognized
that everyone must rally behind der Fuehrer. In Nicaragua, which has
not yet risen to our heights, no one issued such a pronouncement. We
learn more about the prevailing conception of democracy.42

Nolan goes on to explain that "Ortega was not an adept politician.
His beloved masses could not eat slogans and voted with their
stomachs, not their hearts." If Ortega had been more adept, he could
have provided them with food -- by following Nolan's advice and
capitulating to the master. Now, in this "blessing of democracy," "at
long last, Nicaragua itself has spoken" -- freely and without duress,
wherever "their hearts" may have been.

Times correspondent David Shipler contributed his
thoughts under the headline "Nicaragua, Victory for U.S. Fair Play."
Following the liberal model, Shipler observes that "it is true that
partly because of the confrontation with the U.S., Nicaragua's economy
suffered terribly, setting the stage for the widespread public
discontent with the Sandinistas reflected in Sunday's balloting."
Conclusion? "The Nicaraguan election has proved that open, honorable
support for a democratic process is one of the most powerful foreign
policy tools at Washington's disposal" -- to be sure, after imposing
"terrible suffering" to ensure the proper outcome in a "Victory for
U.S. Fair Play." Shipler adds that now Nicaragua "needs help in
building democratic institutions" -- which he and his colleagues are
qualified to offer, given their profound understanding of true
democracy.43

In Newsweek, Charles Lane recognized that U.S. efforts
to "democratize Nicaragua" through the contra war and "devastating
economic sanctions" carried "a terrible cost," including 30,000 dead
and another half million "uprooted from their homes," "routine" resort
to "kidnapping and assassination," and other unpleasantness. So severe
were the effects that "by the end of 1988, it was pride alone that
kept the Sandinistas from meeting Reagan's demand that they cry uncle'!" But the population finally voted for "a chance to put
behind them the misery brought on by 10 years of revolution and war."
"In the end, it was the Nicaraguans who won Nicaragua." We must
"celebrate the moment" while reflecting "on the peculiar mix of good
intentions and national insecurities that led us to become so
passionately involved in a place we so dimly understood."44

The moral cowardice reeks even more than the hypocrisy.

Editorials in the national press hailed "the good news from
Nicaragua," "a devastating rebuke to Sandinistas," which "will
strengthen democracy elsewhere in Central America as well" (New
York Times). The editors do recognize that one question is
"debatable," namely, "whether U.S. pressure and the contra war
hastened or delayed the wonderful breakthrough." But "No matter;
democracy was the winner," in elections free and fair. Note that this
contribution falls on the "conservative" side of the debate: No
mention of the crucial factors, rather than mention and dismissal, as
in the liberal model. The Washington Post editors hoped
that these elections would launch "Nicaragua on a conclusive change
from a totalitarian to a democratic state," but are not sure. "The
Masses Speak in Nicaragua," a headline reads, employing a term that is
taboo apart from such special occasions.

Perhaps that is enough. I have sampled only the less egregious
cases, avoiding the right. It would be hard to find an exception to
the pattern.

Several features of the election coverage are particularly
striking: the extraordinary uniformity; the hatred and contempt for
democracy revealed with such stark clarity across the political
spectrum; and the utter incapacity to perceive these simple facts.
Exceptions are marginal indeed.

Within Nicaragua

I have kept to the factual circumstances and the reaction here,
saying nothing about why Nicaraguans voted as they did under the
conditions imposed upon them by the terrorist superpower, an important
question, but a different one. But the Nicaraguan reaction merits a
few comments for what it shows about U.S. political culture.

Within the United States, the standard reaction was joyous acclaim
for the Nicaraguan "masses" who had triumphed over their oppressors in
fair elections. In Nicaragua, the reaction seems to have been rather
different. After informing us that the winners were "the Nicaraguans,
of course," the New Republic turns to its Managua
correspondent Tom Gjelten, who writes: "UNO victory rallies were
small, mostly private affairs, and there was no mass outpouring into
the streets. Most people stayed home." Almost a month after the
elections, AP reported that "UNO supporters still have not held a
public celebration." Many other reports from around Nicaragua confirm
the somber mood, which contrasts strikingly to the Unity in Joy here.
The comparison may suggest something about who won and who lost, but
the thought was not pursued -- here, that is; in Latin America, the
meaning was taken to be clear enough.46

AP reporter Candice Hughes filed an interesting report from
Bluefields on the Atlantic Coast, where "Anti-communism runs deep, a
legacy of the region's ties to the Yankees who mined its gold, cut its
lumber, fished its waters, and to the missionary fervor of the
Moravians and the Capuchin priests who educated its children"; a
well-known center of opposition to the Sandinistas with close ties of
travel and trade with the United States, so much so that "anti-Cuban
riots erupted when the government announced plans to send in more
teachers" in 1980. A Cuban medical brigade has been working in
Bluefields, "15 idealistic envoys of a revolution becoming isolated
and stale," along with a construction brigade that is building 5,000
homes to replace those destroyed in Hurricane Joan (which devastated
the region, eliciting aid from Cuba and U.S. citizens who are
non-Americans by Times standards, but few others). The
Cubans are living in a complex they built that will become a
university when they leave. They stayed home after the elections, and
"Bluefields got a taste of life without the Cubans," as "things fell
apart" at the hospital and construction stopped. "After two days,
community leaders went to the Cubans and persuaded them to return to
work, reassuring them they were not only safe, but desperately needed.
The experience converted all but the most fervent anti-communists in
Bluefields," the Nicaraguan doctor who directs the local hospital
said: "People changed colors like chameleons." Hughes reports that
"today, many Bluefilenos dread the Cubans' departure," which "would
strip Nicaragua's isolated South Atlantic coast" of its major medical
services and "would shatter the vision" of the "sturdy new homes
replacing shacks flattened by Hurricane Joan."47

Yet another Nicaraguan reaction is described by Times
reporter Larry Rohter, in a typically bitter and scornful condemnation
of the "internationalists," who carry out such despicable activities
as fixing bicycles and distributing grain "to child care centers and
maternity clinics," and who intend to continue "serving the vast
majority of workers and peasants whose needs have not diminished," an
activist in the Casa Benjamin Linder says. Rohter quotes Vice President-elect Virgilio
Godoy, who says that the new government will keep a close eye on these
intruders: "we are not going to permit any foreigner to interfere in
our domestic political problems."48

In a well-disciplined society, no one laughs when such statements
are reported. Under the totalitarian Sandinistas, foreigners were
permitted to forge a political coalition based upon the terrorist
force they created to attack the country and to pour millions of
dollars into supporting it. Foreigners engaged in what the World Court
condemned as "the unlawful use of force" against Nicaragua were
nevertheless allowed to fund a major newspaper that called for the
overthrow of the government and openly identified with the terrorist
forces pursuing these ends, proxies of the foreign power funding the
journal. Under these totalitarians, such foreigners as Jeane
Kirkpatrick and U.S. Congressmen were permitted to enter the country
to present public speeches and news conferences calling for the
overthrow of the government by violence and supporting the foreign-run
terrorist forces. "Human Rights" investigators accompanied by contra
lobbyists posing as "experts" were permitted free access, along with
journalists who were scarcely more than agents of the foreign power
attacking the country. Nothing remotely resembling this record can be
found in Western democracies; in the United States, Israel, England,
and other democracies, such freedoms would be inconceivable, even
under far less threat, as the historical record demonstrates with
utter clarity.

But now, at last, totalitarianism is yielding to freedom, so
Nicaragua will no longer tolerate "interference" from foreigners who
have the wrong ideas about how to contribute to reform and
development, foreigners who are not working for the violent overthrow
of the government but rather are supporting the only mass-based
political force in the country.

In short, freedom in Nicaragua is over, so, naturally, "Americans
are United in Joy." Again we see exactly what is meant by "freedom"
and "democracy" in the elite political culture.

Looking Ahead

Let us depart now from the factual record and turn to a few
speculations.

A fundamental goal of U.S. policy towards Latin America (and
elsewhere), long-standing and well-documented, is to take control of
the police and military so as to assure that the population will not
act upon unacceptable ideas. As Edward Herman has observed, just as
there are "worthy and unworthy victims" (the worthy being those
persecuted by official enemies, who arouse great anguish, the unworthy
being our victims, whose fate is therefore a matter of indifference),
so there are "worthy and unworthy armies." Worthy armies, such as
those of Somoza, El Salvador, Guatemala, South Africa, or Indonesia,
need no interference, because they are doing their job quite
satisfactorily. Unworthy armies, which do not meet these high
standards, must be reformed. In Nicaragua, then, the goal will be to
restore something like the Somozist National Guard, following the
prescriptions of the Carter doves.

A secondary goal is to destroy any independent press. Sometimes
this requires murderous violence, as in El Salvador and Guatemala. The
broad elite approval of the practice is evident from the reaction when
it is carried out; typically, silence, coupled with praise for the
advances towards democracy. Sometimes market forces suffice, as in
Costa Rica, where the Spanish language press is a monopoly of the
ultra-right, so there are no concerns about freedom of the press.

More generally, there are two legitimate forces in Latin America:
First and foremost, the United States; secondarily, the local
oligarchy, military, and business groups that associate themselves
with the interests of U.S. economic and political elites. If these
forces hold power without challenge, all is well. The playing field is
level, and if formal elections are held, it will be called
"democracy." If there is any challenge from the general population, a
firm response is necessary. The establishment left and right will
typically differ over tolerable levels of atrocities, repression, and
general misery.

In Nicaragua, it will not be so simple to attain the traditional
objectives. Any resistance to them will, of course, be condemned as
"Sandinista totalitarianism." One can write the editorials in advance,
just as those with sufficient literary skill might be able to write
the unpublishable editorials on the reality of life in U.S. domains.

Perhaps the political coalition constructed by Washington will be
unable to meet the demands imposed upon it by the master. If so, new
managers will be needed. It is clear where to turn. There is a
mass-based political organization, and if it can be brought to heel,
perhaps it can be assigned the task. The point was made obliquely by
the Wall Street Journal, in its triumphal editorial on
the elections. "In time," the editors wrote, "Daniel Ortega may
discover the moderating influences of democratic elections, as did
Jamaica's Michael Manley, himself formerly a committed Marxist."49
Translating from Newspeak, the U.S. may have to try the Jamaica model,
first working to undermine and destroy a popular movement, then
lavishly supporting the preferred capitalist alternative that proved
to be a miserable failure, then turning to the populist Manley to
manage the resulting disaster -- but for us, now that he and
the population generally have been tamed, and understand that they
have no choice but to follow orders.

The point is widely understood, though generally left tacit in the
media. As if by instinct, when the election returns were announced,
Ortega was instantaneously tranformed from a villain to a statesman,
with real promise. He can be kept in the wings, to be called upon if
needed to follow our directions.

The policy is routine. Once popular movements are crushed, once the
dream of a better future is abandoned and "the masses" understand that
their only hope is to shine shoes for whitey, then it makes good sense
to allow a "democratic process" that may even bring former enemies to
power. They can then administer the ruins, for us. A side benefit is
that populist forces are thereby discredited. Thus the U.S. was quite
willing to permit Manley to take over after the failure of the
Reaganite free market experiment, and would observe with equanimity
(indeed, much pride in our tolerance of diversity) if Juan Bosch wins
the elections in the Dominican Republic. There is no longer any need
to send the Marines to bar him from office as in 1965, when the
population arose, defeating the army and restoring the populist
constitutional regime that had been overthrown by a U.S.-backed coup.
After years of death squads, starvation, mass flight of desperate boat
people, and takeover of the rest of the economy by U.S. corporations,
we need not be troubled by democratic forms. On the same reasoning, it
is sometimes a good idea to encourage Black mayors -- if possible,
civil rights leaders -- to preside over the decline of what is left of
the inner cities of the domestic Third World. Once demoralization is
thorough and complete, they can run the wreckage and control the
population. Perhaps Ortega and the Sandinistas, having come to their
senses after a dose of reality administered by the guardian of order,
will be prepared to take on this task if the chosen U.S. proxies fail.

If all works well, Maynes's establishment left will once again be
able to celebrate what he calls the U.S. campaign "to spread the cause
of democracy." It is true, he observes, that sometimes things don't
quite work out. Thus "specialists may point out that the cause of
democracy suffered some long-run setbacks in such places as Guatemala
and Iran because of earlier CIA successes' in overthrowing governments
there," but ordinary folk

[text is missing here -- JBE]

will not be troubled by the human consequences of these setbacks.

More successful is the case of the Dominican Republic, or Grenada,
where the cause of democracy triumphed at not too great a cost to us,
"and the island has not been heard from since." There has been no need
to report the recent meaningless elections, the social dissolution and
decay, the state of siege instituted by the official democrats, the
decline of conditions of life, and other standard concomitants of "the
defense of freedom." Perhaps, with luck, Nicaragua will prove to be a
success of which we can be equally proud. Panama is already well along
the familiar road.

While the official left and right differ in their tolerance for
atrocities and misery, we should bear in mind that the standards are
quite high, on all sides. As an illustration, consider the events of
March 22-24 in El Salvador, a three-day commemoration of the tenth
anniversary of the assassination of Archbishop Romero. "The poor, the
humble and the devout flocked by the thousands" to honor his memory at
a Mass in the cathedral where he was murdered, AP reported, filling
the plaza and the streets outside after a march led by 16 bishops,
three from the United States. Romero is being formally proposed for
sainthood by the Salvadoran Church -- the first such case since
Archbishop Thomas a Becket was assassinated at the altar over 800
years ago. Americas Watch published a report on the shameful decade,
symbolically bounded by "these two events -- the murder of Archbishop
Romero in 1980 and the slaying of the Jesuits in 1989" -- which offer
"harsh testimony about who really rules El Salvador and how little
they have changed," people for whom "priest-killing is still a
preferred option" because they "simply will not hear the cries for
change and justice in a society that has had too little of either." In
his homily, Archbishop Romero's successor, Archbishop Arturo Rivera y
Damas, said that "For being the voice of those without voice, he was
violently silenced."50

The victims remain without voice, and the Archbishop remains
silenced as well. No high-ranking official of the Cristiani government
or his Arena party attended the Mass, not even their leader Roberto
d'Aubuisson, assumed to be responsible for the assassination in
coordination with the U.S.-backed security forces. The U.S. government
was also notable for its absence. The anniversary passed with scarcely
a notice in the country that funds and trains the assassins. Not a
great surprise, after all, considering that from the start the media
suppressed the circumstances of the assassination, the evidence of
military complicity, and the role of the U.S. government in the
background events and the aftermath. The assassination did not even
merit an editorial in the New York Times. Why trouble,
then, to remember ten years later?51

There should be no further embarrassment, however -- assuming that
there is any now. This will be the last public religious homage to
Romero for decades, because Church doctrine prohibits homage for
candidates for sainthood. Revulsion at the assassination of Thomas a
Becket compelled King Henry II, who was held to be indirectly
responsible, to do penance at the shrine. One will wait a long time
for a proper reenactment, another sign of the progress of
civilization.

Outside of the official left-right spectrum, the non-people have
other values and commitments, and a quite different understanding of
responsibility to something other than ourselves and of the cause of
democracy and freedom. They will also understand that solidarity work
is now becoming even more critically important than before. Every
effort will be made to de-educate the general population so that they
sink to the intellectual and moral level of the cultural and social
managers. Those who do not succumb have a historic mission, and should
not forget that.

Notes

4
Financial Times, Feb. 27, 1990. After noting that the contra
war brought the country close to bankruptcy, with $12 billion in
damages in addition to the vast costs of the economic sanctions, they
attribute primary responsibility to Sandinista "economic
mismanagement" and their "totalitarian system." I leave the logic to
others to decipher. Cameron and Kemble, From a Proxy Force to a
National Liberation Movement, ms, Feb. 1986, circulated
privately in the White House.

5 Tony
Avirgan, Mesoamerica, March 1990; on the subversion of
the accords and the media role, see my Culture of Terrorism
(South End, 1988), Necessary Illusions (South End, 1989).
This story is almost completely suppressed in the media and is
destined to be eliminated from history, along with earlier similar
successes in undermining diplomacy. Ibid.; my
Towards a New Cold War (Pantheon, 1982); Edward Herman and Noam
Chomsky, Manufacturing Consent (Pantheon, 1988).

50 Douglas
Grant Mine, AP, March 23, 24; Americas Watch, A Year of
Reckoning, March 1990.

51 I saw one
notice of the anniversary, in the religion pages of the Boston
Globe, by Richard Higgins, who is writing a book about Romero:
"Religion Notebook," BG, March 24, 1990, p. 27. On the
record of suppression and distortion of the assassination, see
Turning the Tide, 103f.; Manufacturing Consent,
48ff.